


To Lie Under

by Illuminahsti



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Halloween Promts, Incubus!Cas, M/M, PWP, Sam's awkward third wheeling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 11:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8204383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illuminahsti/pseuds/Illuminahsti
Summary: Cas is looking pretty bad after a fight, and Dean decides to take care of him.AU where pretty much everything is the same, except the Cas in an incubus.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Spooky Saturday prompts over at the Supernatural Fic Writers Com on Imzy. Anyone is welcome to join! 
> 
> https://www.imzy.com/spn_fic_writers

They find the nest of ghouls right after dark. They shouldn’t be an issue—they’ve dealt with ghouls before—but there are more than they expected and Cas is Cas. He’s semi-immortal and nearly suicidally reckless, and he takes a hell of a beating. Dean himself is dragging, bruised and covered in other people's blood, and he can’t protect Cas the way he wants to, overwhelmed by the three ghouls he’s fighting on his own. The incubus may be long lived, but he isn’t an experienced fighter.

Every time Dean gets a view of Cas, he looks worse. He lip is split and bleeding, the whole right side of his face is swelling. Dean’s concern earns him a bite on his forearm for his inattention to his opponent, and while he is dealing with that, Cas goes flying.

Dean hears the echoing crunch in the dark a full minute before he kills the last ghoul. He’s at Cas’ side before the ghoul’s death rattles have silenced.

Cas is still, his face creased with pain, and Dean is sure he’s got cracked ribs at the very least. He’s covered in blackish ghoul blood too, which adds to the grizzly effect, but doesn’t make Dean’s heart catch in his throat the way Cas’ labored gasp does.

"Cas, you okay?" Dean whispers, voice rough.

"I'll make it," he growls, and tries to sit. It's obvious as he does that he is not fine, that he’s having trouble drawing a full breath.

"You're not fine, Christ, you need healing."

Cas grunts. Dean puts hands in Cas’ armpits and lifts him to a more comfortable sitting position as Sam finally joins them.

"Hey buddy," Sam says. "We're going to get you to the car, okay?"

Cas nods.

Dean and Sam each take an arm and haul him to the car. They tuck him into the backseat as gently as they can while Cas groans and struggles for breath.

Dean's mind is racing, looking for possibilities. Cas is an incubus, and that means that sleep and food and even stitches and bandages won't help him. He needs sexual energy to heal, the more direct the better. Usually he goes to strip clubs and skin flicks, skulks in the back like a voyeur, takes a little bit of energy from every person in the place.

He can't do that now, he's covered in blood and the energy won't be direct enough to heal broken bones. He has to pull a lot of energy, fast.

Dean's mind is made up by the time they pull onto the highway. Sam looks at him from the passenger seat.

"Where are we taking him?" he asks.

"Back to the motel. I'll take care of him."

"He needs... oh." Sam clears his throat and stares straight out the window. “Why not a strip club? He's not… dying.”

“This is faster.” Dean says, like that settles it.

“Uh huh.” Sam doesn’t say anything else.

Dean is glad not to argue. He would rather not go into any of this with his brother. Sam already knows most of it - the men he used to pick up for money, the men he still picks up for fun. He also knows better than to ask for details. And yeah, Dean might be overreacting *a little*. But this is Cas, who needs to be protected, and Dean has never had sex with an incubus before, so he’s a little curious.

"You okay?" he calls to Cas.

"I'm not any closer to death than I was."

"Right, good."

 

 

The motel isn't far, and the drive isn't long enough to calm any of the various panics warring in his chest. He pulls into the parking lot and Sam gives him a sideways look.

"I'll go find a diner," he says. "Pick us up some food."

"Thanks." Dean pulls the back door open and helps Cas out of the Impala. Cas can almost support his own weight, which is a good sign.

"Dean, you don't need to do this," he rumbles.

"You're in pretty bad shape, Cas, look at yourself."

"I'll take all your energy."

"Cas--"

"I have rules, Dean, I won't--"

"Cas, it's fine. I want to."

Sam makes a choking noise as he unlocks the motel door and lets them in. Dean ignores him. He'll do whatever he needs to do to save Cas, and he's sure Sam would do the same.

Sam doesn't even follow them inside, and Dean kicks the door shut with a decisive slam before he shuffles Cas to the bed.

"Alright," Dean says with the strange realization that he doesn't know how this works at all. "Let's do this. Can I take your clothes off?"

"I'm in no shape to fuck you."

Even with his voice weak with pain, the rough words out of Cas' mouth send electricity through Dean's stomach. He looks down at his best friend, laid out on Dean's bed, and he knows this will be easy.

"We gotta get this going some way, Cas, what do you want to do?"

"What do you want?"

“I’m game for anything.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Dean isn't sure if this is Cas, checking again for his consent, or if this is the beginning of dirty talk. He answers honestly for either question.

"I want you to fuck me, even if I know you can't. I want to make you feel good. I want you to want me."

"Take your clothes off," Cas commands, and damn if that doesn't sound good in his gravelly voice. "Then come closer and touch yourself, and keep telling me what you want to do to me."

Dean pulls his clothes off quickly, adrenaline pounding through his blood. He isn’t inclined to ask questions when Cas says things like that.

“I’m feeding on your lust,” he tells Dean, “and your orgasm. This is your show.”  
“I bet the girls love that.”

“You know I don’t—”

“I know.”

“It’s good for me too,” Cas says dryly. “I want to watch you.”

“Let me undress you.”

Cas frowns at him, but nods. Dean’s a visual man, and he could fantasize alone, but it’s better if he gets to fumble his way through Cas’ many buttons, peel off the blood stained shirt and trench coat in one go. He props Cas up against every pillow in the place so he’s gently reclining, his eyes tracking Dean’s movements. Dean straddles him and rests his hands on Cas’ chest and remembers again that the man is six feet of solid muscle. Part of him checks Cas’ side for bruises, most of him runs fingers over the swells of his pectorals, the jut of his ribcage, his soft belly that tenses and ripples with muscles when Dean touches them.

“God, you’re so hot,” Dean mutters. “I want to watch you come apart underneath me, I want to touch every fucking inch of you, I want to kiss your—“

“Then kiss me.”

Dean tightens his knees around Cas’ hips and leans in, gentle. Cas’ lip is swollen, but he grips Dean’s hair and pulls their mouths together, opening under Dean’s lips. The kiss is hungry, and by the time Dean has to pull away he’s fully hard, rocking against Cas.

He drops a hand to his dick and strokes softly, gasping. “Fuck,” he breathes out, and then his mouth is gone. “I wish it was you touching me. I wish you were inside me and your fingers were on my dick. I want – I want to ride you until I see spots—”

Cas groans, low and rough, and grips Dean’s hips. His fingers dig in and Dean knows there will be bruises, wishes there was more. Wishes he could ask Cas to leave some visible mark on him, wishes the pain was sharper.

Dean bucks against his own hand, tightens his grip. Cas is watching him intently, the furrow between in place, and Dean feels hot and cold like it’s his hands all over his body instead of his gaze. Dean keeps going, muttering curse words and pleas like prayers, unable to stop. He’s only touching himself, but his imagination provides a fantasy so vivid Dean’s pretty sure it’s been pulled directly from a dream. He can feel the ghost of Cas’ narrow hands, vicelike on his wrists as he thrusts into Dean, silent and serious. Dean would beg Cas if he could, if he thought it would make this reality.

“God, please Cas—”

“Please what?”

“T-touch me. I need—something—”

One of Cas’ hands wraps around Dean’s. The skin of his palm is cool and soft and he guides Dean’s hand up his shift while the other still claims the flesh of his hips.

It’s enough to push Dean over the edge, and he comes with a strangled shout, toppling forward so his chest nearly touches Cas. Cas leans back, his back arched, mouth opened, face finally cleared of pain. Dean gasps for breath and drops his head limply. His forehead brushes Cas’ sternum, and once his breathing slows he can still feel Cas’ chest rising and falling as he gasps for air.

Dean looks up and tries to smile cheekily. “How’s—”

Cas interrupts him with another kiss. There’s no swollen lip in the way, no copper taste of blood. There’s only Cas’ mouth against his, insistent, intense. Dean is tired, orgasm heavy in his limbs, eyelids shut, and he could keep kissing Cas for hours, but he pulls just far enough away to ask, “how’re you feeling?”

“Better. Nearly whole again.”

Opening his eyes feels like swimming back to the surface of water. Dean sits back against Cas. He’s still hard between Dean’s legs, and he moans as Dean shifts against him. “You didn’t come,” Dean accuses

“I felt yours…” Cas runs his fingers against Dean’s leg slowly. “Like I said, it’s your lust that I need.”

“And you’ve got it.” Dean runs exploratory hands down the other man’s chest. “How’re your ribs?”

“Nearly healed.”

Dean pushes down, gently, and Cas grimaces.

“I said nearly, Dean.”

“Just checking.” He rocks against Cas’ erection, looking for a reaction. He gets it in Cas’ hissed inhale and his grip on Dean’s thigh. “You want to go again? Get rid of the last of those bruises.”

Cas gives him a critical look. “Already? You look exhausted.”

Dean gives himself an experimental stroke and shrugs. “I am. Doesn’t matter. You could fuck me, now you’re all shiny and new.”

“Dean…”

“What?”

“You want me?”

“I said so, didn’t I? Who’d turn down a hot lay with an incubus?”

Cas’s frown deepens. “Kiss me,” he says.

Dean rolls off him and cuddles up against his side, wraps an arm around his middle. He kisses Cas slowly, seductively. Cas melts against his body, a long line of skin on skin, and weaves fingers into Dean’s hair. It feels like he’s trying to coax something out of Dean, but by now Dean would have given it to him. His skin is hot and his legs feel hollow and he wants to crawl inside of Cas and stay there.

Dean sighs against Cas and thinks about cleaning them up, decides he’s too tired to move. The kiss has sapped the last of his energy.

“You good?” Cas asks.

“Mmm,” Dean runs a hand down Cas’ back. “Good. Tired.”

“I know. I took much of your energy.”

“It felt good.”

Cas chuckles, and Dean feels the vibrations through his whole torso. “That was the orgasm, not me.”

“You helped.”

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas kisses Dean’s eyelids.

“’S’fine, Cas, that’s what friends are for.”


End file.
